


Allegro Con Dolcezza

by Wanderlust_Skies



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust_Skies/pseuds/Wanderlust_Skies
Summary: The night is young and the ball had only just begun. Prussia searches through the crowds for an old friend, in the hopes of having welcomed company until it ends. Maybe, if he is lucky, he can finally show off his dancing skills as well.





	

"Why?" Gilbert complains for the umpteenth time. He is bored out of his mind, ready to leave at a moment's notice. Never mind the fact that he is standing in the middle of the royal ballroom wearing constricting articles of clothing he calls a monkey suit. That doesn't bother him. Nor the fact that he'd rather head for the gaming grounds with the prospect of a good hunt.

No, it is the fact that he has to spend that time—precious time he could do something else with—learning how to dance.

To add more salt to the wound, Prussia has to learn how to waltz. The Viennese waltz, to be exact. A dance that originated from the aristocratic stick-in-the-mud Austria. Needless to say, he was already irritated and impatient when he entered the room. "Why do I have to do this?"

Old Fritz responds with a grandfatherly grin, "Appearances, my boy." He waves a hand, urging the teenage country to remain in place. "Learning the waltz serves an important purpose."

"If it can't help me win battles, old Fritz," the nation grumbles like a child who heard the same reasoning millions of times. "I don't need this."

"Oh yes you do," the king responds with a twinkle in his eye. He crosses his arms over his chest and nods to Gilbert's dance instructor. "As crass as it sounds, you have the fluidity of a wooden stick. That cannot do when you have to attend the congress in Vienna."

"Then I'm not going."

"Yes you are," Frederick amends, turning to the violinist obediently waiting for the king's orders. At the flick of Fritz's wrist, the violinist starts strumming a soft tempo."Unless you do not want to impress Miss Hedevary."

Did Gilbert hear him correctly? "Liz?" The nation questions in surprise. Nah, it...He doesn't need impress her. He is Prussia for gott's sake! The more awesome one compared to Four Eyes. His charming roguish looks—he proudly claims—is enough to do the job. He opens his mouth to protest, only to quickly close it. Rather than voice his opinion and potentially reveal far more than he would like, Gilbert holds his tongue and merely rolls his eyes instead. "Whatever, let's get this over with old man."

 

* * *

 

"Let's try this again," Gilbert's dance instructor suggests. The nation forces himself to not groan. He knows the steps well and the repetitive practice is certainly in his muscle memory. Prussia is sure about his ability to dance. And very sure he does not need further instruction.

"I think I got it," he tries to avoid any more time being wasted.

"Then show us," Fritz comments, signaling the violinist to resume. Gilbert readies himself— hopefully for one last time—as he listens for his cue. He moves through the motions of the introduction with practiced ease. Despite the fast tempo of the waltz, Gilbert is able to keep up— turning and twirling to the tune. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his features. He finishes with a perfectly executed dip.

With the final strum, Frederick claps in approval. "Nicely done, Gilbert." He waves his hand, dismissing the violinist and the dance instructor. Both nod and bow before exiting the ballroom.

 

* * *

 

The ball is almost halfway through and Gilbert did not get his chance yet.

Granted, the time prior was spent chatting with other guests. But the Prussian is determined to finally ask. He did not spend his weekends practicing to not at least impress Hungary with his skills. So he wanders through the crowds like a ghost. Eyes search past hundreds of faces quickly fading out of his memory because they simply aren't _her_. He remains hopeful. Face after face, room after room, he continues his search. Every dignitary keen on starting a conversation with him is quickly dismissed. Every offer to keep the man in place is swiftly ignored.

He finally catches a glimpse of her from across the grand ballroom. His pace quickens and his stride grows longer. "Liz," he begins, barely a few feet away. But the crowd is thick and the background noise is loud, so she does not turn to him. "Liz!" He tries again with vigor, trying to close the gap between them. Only to find himself slipping on a guest's spilled champagne.

With a quick yelp, he is sprawled on the floor. In his haste, he fails to realize that Hungary heard him and turned around. She finds the Prussian on the ground. "Gil? Are you okay?" As fast as it happened, Gilbert brings himself up, more embarrassed than hurt. His cheeks turn red as he smooths his hair and his uniform.

"Me? Ja! I-I uh," he stammers, trying to find the most appropriate thing to say. "How are you?" When the words left his lips, he chastises himself. He probably sounds like an idiot right now. Gilbert meets Elizabeta's eyes and swears that his heart skipped a beat. His eyes trace the outline of her gown, careful to note every detail that makes her increasingly beautiful by the second. Apprehension grows in his throat. It is a miracle she isn't laughing at him. For that he's thankful.

"Too much too drink tonight?" She answers his question with her own.

It doesn't surprise him and he lets out a laugh. Liz smiles in response. "I wish," the germanic nation admits with a cheeky grin. "But Fritz got someone to make sure I don't." Hungary nods, softly chuckling. So much for Gilbert's suave entrance.

Awkwardness hangs in the air. The crowd, the noise, it is too much. Neither are not sure what else to say and only quick glances fills the silence between them. Without warning, he grabs Hungary's hand and pulls her outside. Just his luck, he finds the balcony empty. "Gil! What are you doing?!"

"Getting fresh air," the Prussian answers, letting go of her hand. "I thought you might like it." His response surprises her as she stares at him with furrowed brows. Maybe Gilbert could win her favour this way.

Hungary spends the minute in silence, eyes glazing over a garden the balcony overlooks. "Are you sure you're Gilbert Beilschmidt?" She asks teasingly, stepping closer to the railing.

"Can't I be nice for once?" He quips, a sly grin grows on his features. _Who's the awesome one? I am!_ He thought enthusiastically. So far, he's getting her to laugh. That's a good sign.

"No," she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her emerald eyes. "Gilbert doesn't do 'nice'." 

"Lizzy doesn't do _posh_ either," he counters, inciting the Hungarian nation to playfully smack him on the arm. It's worth it. Now that's the Liz he knows. "But look at you, all dressed up." He pretends to ignore the beating of his heart creeping closer to his throat.

"Says the one in the monkey suit."

"I'd take pants over a dress any day," Gilbert scoffs, pleased with his rebuttal. “Can you even run in them, Liz?” He walks around her, observing the dress at every angle.

Hungary leans closer to him, more amused than pissed off. “No,” she answers with a coy smile, “but I can still kick your ass in this.” 

“I wasn’t gonna ask you to,” he holds his arms up, laughing. “Good to know though.”

The music in the ballroom slows. Prussia briefly stares through the window and sees guests forming a circle around the center. Ah, it must be time for the waltz portion of the night. He returns his gaze back to Hungary, who is more distracted by the garden than the change in music.

With all the courage his could muster, he straightens his back, holds out his gloved hand, and clears his throat. Elizabeta turns, just as he anticipated. "I know how to get down there. You wanna ditch?"

"Isn't it restricted?"

"Mhm, but what Specs doesn't know won't hurt him," he answers with a smile mirroring hers. "Come on, Liz. Are you scared of getting caught?"

Without any moment of hesitation, she takes his hand. Her jade eyes dares him to follow through with his plan. Game on.

With Gilbert leading the way, the two manages to remain undetected by the guards and other guests, hurriedly bounding off to a deserted staircase that led straight to the garden. Prussia isn't much of an admirer of gardens—more so when it belonged to Austria— however he admits that he is impressed. Just this once. Much like the palace they escaped, the garden is grand and elegantly maintained. Trees line the pathway to a marble arch entrance. Not a single branch protrude from the blooming bushes once inside the garden, the grass neatly form circular shapes on the ground, and the marble white gravel create a path snaking throughout the area. A myriad of flora cast beautiful shadows on the path as they bathe under the brilliant full moon.

The ball's music continues to play in the palace, loud enough to carry over the swaying trees and bushes. Both nations wander around the garden. The guards are nowhere to be found, having the tremendous task of observing the ball within the palace.

Every time Hungary pauses in front of a flower or ornament, Gilbert takes note with a practiced eye. Perhaps he could impress her with gifts that she favors; so he keeps the information tucked away in his memory. He takes a moment to look at his fellow escapee with glee. "See? What did I tell ya? We didn't get caught."

Hungary maintains her gaze on the pathway and flowers. Her slippers softly crunch the gravel. "...You planned this, didn't you?" There is no contempt in her tone, merely curiosity.

Is he that obvious? "Uh...yes and no," he admits, placing his hands behind his back. "It was getting stuffy in there and..." his eyes flicker back to the palace, "...Specs has the annoying habit of interrupting the awesome me." By interrupting, he means that Austria wouldn't get in the way.

Elizabeta mirrors the Prussian and holds her hands behind her back. She tilts her head to the side. "Interrupt you doing what?" Her eyes still hold a curious glint.

"Well..." _Come on, say it._ "...I heard the music change and..." _Don't stall, Dummkopf_. "...I, the awesome Prussia, want to know if..." He hesitates, his grip tightening. _Why is this so hard?_ Why couldn't he remember the words he rehearsed in front of a mirror?

"Gil, what is it?"

"Do you want to dance with me?" He blurts out. That was not how he intended to ask. Not by a long shot. "I-I mean, it's custom, right?" Gilbert's mind is frantic, trying to recall what Old Fritz taught him about the rules of attending a ball. "To have the first dance when the music changes?"

Surprise washes over the Hungarian's features. "...oh—" Not good...

"—Forget I said anything," Beilschmidt nervously laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. _You blew it. You had one chance and you blew it!_ He stares at the ground, mentally kicking himself. "...Hey, why don't we run in the maze? It'll be fun!"

He doesn't wait for an answer and starts to make his way to a path branching off to bushes that tower over him. "Gilbert," Liz calls out, prompting the other to pause and face her. "...yes."

Yes? The Prussian stares in bewilderment. "Yes...?"

"I'll dance with you."

Gilbert smiles brightly. He swears his heart did acrobatics the moment she said that."Awesome," he breathes out, still reeling from the surprise. Immediately, he extends his hand and bows. He is determined to make it perfect. Elizabeta curtsies, a sight that the other nation thought he'd never see. He bites back a remark, aimed at the Hungarian's attitude to the whole thing. They begin the dance with Gilbert taking the lead, another shock as he thought she would be the one to do so— regardless of the rules of the waltz.

He tries to follow the faint tune as they weave through the garden. Perhaps Old Fritz did have a point with making him practice. The Prussian assumed prior that he would feel nervous with every move he was going to make. But the practice paid off. Their movements are as fluid as the water flowing from the fountain. The dreaded moment of him stepping on her feet never happens and he is left with a prideful smile. His eyes lights up at his dancing partner, beaming.

In that moment, he realizes that she stole his heart.

With the final step, he ends their dance with another bow.

"I didn't think you knew how to dance," Hungary comments, a light smile dusting her features. Still reveling in the fresh memories of the dance, for the first time in years Gilbert does not know what to say. He stares with a growing grin, completely enamored with her and finally out of witty comebacks and insults.

"I...You...Well I am full of surprises."

She throws him a look his knows all too well before laughing. "And still as awkward as ever."

"It's part of the charm," he quips, finding his voice once more.

Before either could say another word, the music from the distant hall changes. It is faster and more electric, coupled with the sound of the audience enthusiastically clapping to the tempo. Without warning, Liz picks up her dress— high enough to grant more space between the ends of the dress and the ground— and runs into the maze. "Hey, wait!" Gilbert follows with as much mobility as his uniform could allow. 

Their laughter fills the empty area as they dodge and weave around each other. Gilbert doesn't remember how long their chase lasted, but he did work up a sweat when they ended. "Warn me next time," he huffs, trying to catch his breath. He places his hands on his knees as the other nation circles around him with an impish smile. They are in the center of the maze, where a large topiary sculpture of a swan is in the very middle, clipped with precision and well-cared for.

"Are you tired already?" She teases, herself feeling fine even after the chase.

"The monkey suit doesn't let me breathe," he reasons before eyeing her dress. "How can you even run in that? Thought you said you can't." He specifically remembers Liz saying that she wasn't able to run in it earlier.

"I thought so, apparently I can," she admits, laughing.

"You cheated!"

"I didn't!"

"Let me guess," Gilbert scoffs wiping off sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, "All's fair in love and war?"

Hungary stops and she turns to him. She tilted her head to one side with a questioning expression. "The last time I remember, none of us are at war," she says stepping closer to him, placing her hands behind her back. "So we're talking about love then?"

It catches the Prussian off-guard. A lump quickly grows in his throat. He hadn't thought about it in that way. It sort of...came out. This time, he carefully thinks of a response, inwardly reeling from the slip of his tongue. "You tell me," he suggests, hoping to divert the conversation.

"I asked first," Liz replies.

"Ladies first." He was stalling. Definitely stalling.

"Since when did you care?"

The retort Gilbert thought up dies in his throat. It is too bad the Hungarian stepped closer. She could easily see Gilbert's flustered look even under the cover of darkness. So he makes a face of apprehension before feigning insult. "I have manners!" He puffs out his chest in protest.

"Then answer me," she says without missing a beat. A second passes.

_Sheiße._

What is he going to do now? This woman, Gilbert grumbles. He bids his time figuring out how to not mess up once more. "I...we...could be," he finally admits, straightening his back. He holds out his hand, his heart quickening. It is as if he is offering her his heart. "If you'd let me."

Hungary spares a glance at his hand. She softly exhales before she placed her hand on Gilbert's outstretched one. Said man is beyond elated. There are simply too little words to describe what he's feeling. Steeling himself, he maintains eye contact with her, slowly bringing up her hand to his lips. Prussia brushes over her knuckles and his expression softens. "Now we're talking about love," he chuckles, letting go.

"Finally we're getting somewhere," Hungary laughs with him, smiling in a way the other nation hadn't noticed before. It is pure and radiant even in the darkness of the night. "I was wondering how long I had to wait for you to finally admit it."

Gilbert quirks an eyebrow, intrigued and relieved that she felt the same way about him as he did with her. It feels wonderful, he thought, to let go of all of the doubt and just enjoy the moment of their confessions. If his heart wasn't doing somersaults earlier, it is surely doing them now. "You didn't even let me make the first move," he gazes at her with a smirk.

"You took too long," Hungary playfully counters back.

"I was trying to set the mood."

"I doubt that," she gives him a light smack on his right shoulder. Her expression is alien to Gilbert, who had long been accustomed to the outspoken warrior that was Hungary during their childhood years. To see her change in this way is surprising, yet welcoming. "Face it Gil, you waited too long and I got impatient."

"Well what would you do if you were me?" He quips, folding his arms over his chest. Elizabeta considers the thought for a brief second before closing in on the gap between his face and hers. The prussian is bewildered, but chooses to stay in place as he watches her next move. Then he is taken by complete surprise.

Before he could even process what is happening, he registers the fact that Liz closed the gap between them. Then it is the light brush of her lips against his, hesitant and careful.

He is floored. Speechless and dumbfounded. It is not what he expected, but he isn't exactly regretting it either. His mind goes blank. He struggles to comprehend the touch of her lips and couldn't help but smile. With fingers as light as a feather, he caresses her cheek before gently tilting Hungary's head slightly up and returns the favor.

He couldn't have wished for a better moment.

It is there, among the darkness and cover of the trees, that they share their first kiss. A milestone both secretive and intimate that they would definitely share through long stares in the future, but for now they bask in the tenderness of it all. Both, still unwilling to let their prides wounded and exposed, quietly contemplate the prospect of their newfound dynamics with the giddiness of young lovers. They couldn't get over how lucky they are.

 

* * *

 

Gilbert and Elizabeta make their way back into the ball without issues, careful to hide their intertwined hands from prying eyes. The Prussian has a foolish grin and the Hungarian, upon closer inspection, has a blush brighter than when she first arrived.

It is only when the night had come to a close, did they finally relinquish their hold of each other. Prussia is the least enthused, but Hungary assures to him that there will be more official visits and events where their paths would cross. She leaves him near the orchestra and very nearly kisses him goodbye, but chooses to save it for the next time. Left alone with feelings he has yet to sort and figure out, Gilbert accidentally runs into the solo violinist as he attempts to make his way to the waiter with the leftover champagne.

In surprise, he steps back and mumbles out an apology before the violinist looks at him with bright eyes as well as a smile. "Oh, ciao Prussia!" He says excitedly, placing both violin and bow in one hand. Ah, it is Feliciano. Gilbert had forgotten he was invited to play for the ball. "Did you like the music?" He asks in singing tune. "I made it myself!"

"It's..." Gilbert tries to remember what the other was commissioned to play but the kiss with Hungary was the only thing occupying his mind. "...good! You should play it at my awesome house one day!"

The Italian's eyes lit up and he clasps his hands together. "Really?! I call it _Allegro Con Dolcezza_! It's for all the couples finding out they like each other and spending time together like the one I saw in the gardens earlier."

...he saw them?

Gilbert hides his shock and swallows his sudden nervousness with a smile. "Oh, you saw them too?"

Italy nods excitedly. " _Si_! It was the cutest thing! They were chasing each other and laughing." He closes his eyes and has a wistful expression. "I kinda wish the same happened to me," he sighs, still smiling. "Don't you, Gilbert?"

"Er..." Prussia is unable to choose a suitable answer and merely offers a sheepish look. "Maybe. The awesome me's got a lot of things to do, Feli." The Italian shrugs and bids him goodbye, citing that Romano was waiting for him at home. Gilbert turns away, unable to notice the former's strange expression, simply relived that the conversation went the way it had. Had it gone in the worst case scenario, he would've been too petrified to answer.

Meanwhile, Feliciano makes a mental note to talk to Hungary the next day. He is brimming with excitement and could barely contain himself when he conversed with Gilbert. He always knew that there was something special about his newly composed music. Allegro Con Dolcezza. Just like Gilbert and Elizabeta's relationship, it started fast, with sweetness.

 


End file.
